The Exorcism of Frances Foster
by Dude13
Summary: What happens when Foster's resident caretaker gets sick, just as a certain blue imaginary friend has seen too many scary movies? To be honest, it's not a pretty sight...[Oneshot]


This whole story is pretty much just an _extremely _random fic I wrote in my spare time. Basically, I got the idea after seeing the movie "The Exorcism of Emily Rose", and then I saw some clips of the movie _The Exorcist_ on a rerun of "I Love the 70's." Since then, I've basically been messing around with the idea of exorcisms and weird stuff like that until finally it worked its way into avery weirdlittle fic idea I got not too long ago.

Enjoy, everyone! Please read and review!

* * *

**The Exorcism of Frances Foster**

_(A short fic by Dude13)_

"Alright, so what's playing tonight?" Bloo asked as he plopped himself down on the TV room couch.

Nighttime had long fallen on Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, and dinner had been concluded hours before. That of course meant only one thing for a select group of house residents: a big comfy couch, a large bowl of heavily buttered popcorn, and a good old-fashioned horror flick to top it all off.

Wilt grinned as he settled himself down. "Get ready to get your socks knocked off guys, 'cuz you're in for a real treat tonight!"

Mac just rolled his eyes as he slumped in his seat. "Yeah, but that's what you said last week about _The Bog Thing from Lake Doom_, and we could see the zipper on the actor's costume from scene one!"

"Yeah, but that still didn't keep _you_ from almost wetting the bed afterwards, didn't it bud?" Bloo chuckled with a fiendish grin as he elbowed his creator playfully. Mac responded in turn with a swift punch to the little imaginary friend's shoulder.

"Hey, shut up!" the boy snapped. "I did _not_ almost wet the bed! I just…had a little trouble falling asleep, that's all."

"And you had to sleep with Frankie in _her_ bed because you had a "little trouble" getting to sleep?" Bloo continued ribbing his friend with a smug smirk.

"Hey, look who's talking Mr. Oh-My-God-That-Thing-In-The-Back-of-The-Refrigerator-Growled-At-Me." Mac grumbled in reply as he shot his imaginary friend a sour glare.

"Hey, no fair!" Bloo protested indignantly. "That leftover meatloaf is alive, I swear! You guys just refuse to see the truth! Laugh at me now, but I swear, one night, while you're getting a midnight snack..."

"Bloo, you said the exact same thing about that week-old potato salad." Mac quickly rebutted with an exasperated groan.

"Oh yeah, you're Mr. Tough Guy when it comes to killer leftovers, but as soon as it comes to cheesy 60's horror flicks-"

"C'mon, will you just knock it off?" Mac yelled furiously, waving his arms about wildly. "I do _not_ get scared easily, I-"

Before the boy could get any further however, his point was abruptly disproved as a pair of hands reached out from behind the couch and nabbed the unsuspecting child by the shoulders.

"AAAAAAAAAAA!" Mac squealed loudly in surprise as his mysterious assailant lifted him high into the air. Squirming frantically for dear life, the child wailed in absolute terror as he desperately struggled to break free.

"AAAAAUUUUGGGHHH! Lemmego! Lemmego! Please, no! Don't hurt me! I'm begging you! I'm too young to die-_mmphf_!"

His frenzied pleas for mercy were promptly cut off as a hand was clamped firmly over his mouth, effectively muffling the spooked child's wailing. Groaning loudly in exasperation, Frances "Frankie" Foster shot the two imaginary friends seated on the couch a stern glare as she struggled to keep a hold on the still-wriggling eight-year-old in her arms.

"Wilt!" she snapped irritably. "What did I say?"

"Oops! I'm sorry, Frankie! I totally forgot! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" her lanky imaginary friend gasped as he began to frantically apologize for his transgression. "Oh, please, I didn't mean it!"

Frankie sighed heavily as she shook her head. "C'mon, don't you remember? I told you, I don't want any more late-night scary movies for Mac until the little guy can get through one again in one piece. I don't know about you two, butI do _not _want a repeat of _last_ Saturday!" she lectured them dutifully.

"Hey, c'mon!" Mac protested as he finally managed to tear her hand from his mouth, quickly recovering from his initial shock. "Frankie, it wasn't _that_ bad! I can do it! I can-"

"Not that bad?" Frankie replied incredulously."Pal, if I remember correctly, I think I nearly had a heart attack last week when _someone_ woke up in the middle of the night screaming bloody murder. Now, I'm not too sure, but if memory serves me right…"

"Okay, I get it! I get it!" Mac groaned. "C'mon Frankie, that was a week ago! I'll be better this time, I promise! I can do this! Can't I just-"

"Wilt, what are you guys watching tonight?" the redhead inquired as she consolidated her firm hold on the squirming child.

"Uh…_The Exorcist_?" Wilt replied meekly with a weak grin. Almost immediately upon hearing this Frankie whirled about and began to make her way in the direction of the main staircase.

"Okay, that's it. Bedtime, kiddo!" she announced flatly as she tucked the wildly wriggling Mac under her arm, an action that was immediately followed by a hail of protest.

"Hey, c'mon Frankie! It won't be bad! Please!"

"Pal, I just tried to pick you up a minute ago and I could've sworn my eardrums were about to burst with the way you were shrieking like that."

"Hey, I was _not_ shrieking! I-"

"Don't try and fool me, Mac Foster. I barely touched you and it was last Saturday all over again."

"No fair! No fair! Can't I just stay up a little bit and-"

"Mac, no offense, butI am _not_ planning on sharing my bed tonight, and I plan to keep it that way!"

"Aw man…"

As the odd pair exited into the foyer, Bloo jokingly called out after them,

"Hey, don't worry, Mac! I'll set some dry sheets by your door before I go to bed. Heeheehee!" he sniggered as he plopped himself comfortably back in his seat.

"Hey, c'mon Bloo, knock it off!" Wilt objected sternly as he turned on the TV. "I'm sorry, but that _sooo_ was not okay. Mac was really scared last week, like that's never happened to _you_."

"Me? Scared?" Bloo scoffed scornfully with a smug grin. "Puh-leeze! Wilt, I'm probably the _last_ guy to be scared by some dumb horror movie. I mean, when was this thing filmed, the seventies? Yeah, right! Like I'm going to let something like that get to me…"

* * *

(The very next morning...) 

"Frankie, do you need any more help with breakfast?" Mac asked as he dashed into the kitchen. "Frankie?"

"Over here, pal." Came a muffled reply, and the boy quickly spotting her leafingabout insidea cabinet, back turned to him. Not wasting a moment, Macscampered over dutifully to his big sister's side.

"You all set with everything here? I'm sorry that I got down a little late, I just-"

"No need to apologize, I'm all set." Frankie answered calmly as she turned around to face the child.

"Are you sure?" Mac asked concernedly. "C'mon, I'm sure there's something that I can-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Jumping nearly two feet in the air, the boy let loose with an unnaturally high-pitched shriek of surprise that reverberated loudly throughout the kitchen.

"What is it? What happened?" Wilt cried worriedly as he skidded in from the dining room. "What's going-WHOA! Oh, geez!" he yelled in horror, quickly throwing his hand over his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry! I just, I mean, I didn't mean, I just, I just...oh man that is _not_ right!" he babbled uncontrollably.

Frankie was _not _a pretty sight. Or to be more exact, her appearance was appallingly nightmarish. Her skin, normally a vibrant peach tone, was now an ugly ghost white-pallor, touched off with hints of puke-green blemishing certain places on her face. The girl's eyes, instead of carrying their usually fiery sparkle, were now glazed over and half-closed, giving Frankie the appearance of a sleepwalker, or even a zombie from one of Wilt's cheesy horror flicks. To top it all off, the young woman slouched unnaturally and shivered uncontrollably as if she was in the middle of a miniature earthquake. There was no doubt about it; Foster's resident caretaker had become…

"Sick." Mac whispered, sticking out his tongue in disgust.

"Huh?" Frankie groaned, slowly turning her head to give him a dumb stare. "What's that, pal?"

"You're sick!" the boy repeated. "And not just sick, you're…you're…um…"

"_Really_ sick?" Wilt suggested as he reached over to feel the girl's forehead.

"Ah, c'mon, guys." Frankie just scoffed at their accusations. "I'm not sick, I feel just-"

"Yowch!" Wilt yelped as he quickly withdrew his hand. "Oh cripes, Frankie, you're burning up!"

"Oh please, you guys are just-"

"For Pete's sake, Frankie, you can barely even stand up!" Mac protested fiercely.

"Says you!" Frankie grunted weakly in denial as she dangerously wobbled back and forth in a sickly manner, long legs shaking like Jell-O. "Guys, I'm okay! Will you please just leave me alone and let me get back to work?"

Mac cocked his head and shot the ailing girl a confused glance. "Wait, wait, hold on. You actually _want_ to get back to your chores?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah!" Frankie replied with an annoyed huff. "What else am I gonna do? C'mon, Herriman's got like a million things for me to do today and as Foster's caretaker, it's my sworn duty…"

"Okay, okay, that's it!" Wilt cut off her babbled rant. "Now we _know _you're sick. C'mon Frankie, let's get you upstairs and-"

"Hey, back off!" the feverish girl snapped as she took a wobbly step backwards. "Knock it off, you two, I'm serious! Will you quit it with all the talk about-"

"Frankie, please!" Mac implored as he took a cautious step forwards. "Take it easy, we just want to-"

"No, no way!" she yelled in reply. "Not until you guys knock it off! C'mon, I really mean it! Mr. Herriman needs me to trim the windows, wash the ceilings, paint the hedges…uh, bake the…um…lawn…"

"Oh man, she's totally gone." Mac whispered cautiously to Wilt.

"Right, we gotta make this quick." Wilt nodded in response.

"On the count of three, ok? One…"

"Will you please quit it?" the fever-stricken Frankie snarled. "C'mon! Coco, Grandma, will you two just leave me alone?"

"Two…"

"Hey, wait a second…" the badly disorientated young woman paused. "Coco, since when did you get so _tall_?"

"Three! Get her!" Mac cried as the two charged forward.

"Hey, wait! What are you doing? What are you-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"

* * *

"There's no such thing as demonic possession, there's no such thing as demonic possession, there's no such thing as…" 

Bloo muttered fervently to himself over and over as he dully stirred his cereal with a badly shaking arm. Despite the macho imaginary friend he had made himself out to be the night before, it was quite clear that last the late-night movie obviously held a strong impact on him.

"Twirling head…floating above the bed…that green stuff she kept spewing…ewwww!" Bloo shuddered violently as gruesomely select scenes from last night's flick replayed over in his head. "It's okay, Bloo, it's okay. Just gotta get a hold on yourself. It was just a movie, nothing but a dumb movie. Yeah, just a stupid, cheesy movie made in the seventies. People do not get possessed by the-"

His frantic self-reassurances became interrupted as a hideous clatter erupted from the direction of the kitchen, starling all the breakfasting house residents.

"What on earth?" Mr. Herriman cried in surprise as he immediately hopped off to tend to the disturbance.

"Oh please, settle down everyone!" Madame Foster hurriedly reassured the startled residents in a soothing grandmotherly tone of voice. "It's okay, I'm sure its no problem! Frankie just probably dropped some pots, I'm sure its nothing for anyone to get all worked up about. Now, if we can all just-"

Ignoring the old woman's pleas to return to breakfasting however, Bloo quickly leapt from his seat and dashed over to the kitchen door, his curiosity naturally piqued by the commotion. However, rather than barge in and get a firsthand glance of what the commotion was all about, the imaginary friend's frazzled state of mind had left him feeling not-too-adventurous that particular day. Instead, Bloo decided to content himself with just pressing his head against the door, preferring to listen in rather than put himself in any frightful unnecessary danger, plus the possible scolding from Mr. Herriman. Taking a deep breath, the little imaginary breath leaned in and listened intently in a cautious attempt to figure out what was going on.

Only seconds after trying to hear what the fuss was about, almost immediately Bloo tore himself away from the door and backed off quickly, as if he had been leaning his head against a piece of scorching-hot metal. Taking refuge behind a nearby house plant, the quivering little creature took a wary glance back at the closed doorway, shaking his head wildly in a feeble attempt to clear his thoughts and somewhat comprehend what he had just heard.

"F-Frankie was just…no, no it couldn't be…b-but it sound just like…it s-s-sounded like…but h-how could she…was Frankie just speaking in _tongues_?"

* * *

To Bloo, the babbled garble that had heard Frankie shriek sounded just like the language of the possessed, as taught to him by last night's movie. However, little did he realize, the garble he had heard sputter from the feverish young woman's mouth was neither Latin, Greek, Aramaic, nor any other Biblical language. Frankie, being the college-educated woman she was, simply possessed a large vocabulary. Or, to put it another way, Bloo simply possessed very limited knowledge on the different swears and curses that existed in the English language. 

"Miss Frances!" Mr. Herriman bellowed sternly at the girl who now lay limply in Wilt's hold, completely exhausted from her brief but epic struggle. "I am _shocked_! Where on earth did you learn _that_ kind of language? I admit, it was probably quite unpleasant to be roughly subdued in such a fashion, but believe me young lady, that gives you no excuse to go firing off your mouth like some sort of-"

"Oh, shut up, Eduardo." A delirious Frankie mumbled grumpily, glaring at the rabbit through bleary eyes.

"See? There you go again! Just because you've temporarily lost the ability to differentiate between house residents gives you no right to be sucha despicable guttermouth!" the oversized rabbit dutifully lectured her. "My word, such awful, awful language! What would Master Mac say if he heard you acting as such an atrocious role model? Young lady, you better count your blessings and be glad that your charge is not-"

"Uh, Mr. Herriman?" Mac piped up weakly, tugging at Mr. Herriman's coattails. "Um…I kind of _am_ here."

Mr. Herriman instantly put a halt to his reprimanding of the feverish house caretaker to warily glanced down to the wide-eyed eight-year-old standing next to him.

"Oh…_ohhhhhhhhhhh_….I see." The embarrassed imaginary friend murmured.

"M-Mr. Herriman?"the obviouslyvery stunned Mac whispered curiously. "What did Frankie mean by…y'know, when she was yelling about…and she kept on screaming that...well, what's a-"

"Ha ha oh nothing you need to worry about oh dear me look at the time mustn't be late for school don't you worry young sir we'll take over from here have a nice day!" Mr. Herriman babbled with a frighteningly forced smile. With that he scooped up the boy none-too-gently into his paws and made a mad dash in the direction of the foyer.

"But I normally don't leave for at least another half-hour! Hey! Hey!" Mac protested fruitlesslyas he was forcibly carried off, leaving Wilt alone to tend to the badly ailing Frankie.

"Say goodbye to Mac, Frankie."

"Goodbye to Mac, Frankie." The fever-stricken girl mumbled stupidly with a weak little wave, doing so in the completely wrong direction of course.

"Frankie…" Wilt sighed as he shook his head, gathering her up in his arm and cradling her like a baby. "C'mon, we better get you back to bed. I'll bring up some soup later for you, ok?"

"Okay…" Frankie replied with a pitiful whimper. Wilt flashed her a comforting smile as he made his way into the direction of the main staircase.

"It's probably a good thing we're dealing with this now. No telling what would've happened if we didn't find you like this until later."

Unfortunately, the damage had already been done.

* * *

"There's _no_ such thing as demonic possession, there's _no_ such thing as demonic possession, there's _no_ such thing as demonic possession…" 

Bloo found himself repeating the same reassurance again over and over as he worriedly paced about the winding hallways of Foster's in a desperate attempt to alleviate his worst fears. However, the endeavor was proving to be completely fruitless, judging by the way the frazzled little imaginary friend shivered uncontrollably as he warily made his way about the house.

"It's okay, it's okay, Bloo." He desperately tried to reassure himself. "You're just imagining things, that's all. Uh, yeah! Yeah, that's gotta be it! There's no way that Frankie can be possessed by uh…a _demon_. Yeah! So what if she was babbling uncontrollably in a another language? Pfft!" he scoffed haughtily to himself. "Oh yeah, like _that_ really means she's actually been taken over by a…oh geez!" he managed to laugh at himself. "Just what the heck was I thinking? Frankie…possessed …hee hee!"

Bloo chuckled at himself as he plodded down the hallway. "Ha ha! Me…thinking she was…hee hee! Oh man, how'd I come up with _that_? I mean, if she had really been taken over by some kind of devil, than wouldn't her head be spinning around and stuff like in the movie?"

The little imaginary friend paused to picture the image in his mind, the very thought of Foster's caretaker turning a hundred and eighty degrees causing him to laugh even harder at the entire notion.

"Hahaha! Man, that's a good one. Ha ha! Yeah, and she'd be, uh, floating above the bed too! Heeheehee!" he giggled like a little schoolchild. "Yeah, yeah! And, uh…oh yeah! She'd also be spewing out that weird green stuff from her mouth, too. Ewwwww!" he jokingly grimaced. "I mean, what _is_ that stuff, anyway? Ha ha! Gross!"

His worries momentarily alleviated, the little imaginary friend laughed uproariously to himself as he continued on his way down a random hallway. After practically being on the verge of wetting himself in fright, Bloo was now unable to hold back the tears of merriment that streamed down his face as he pictured the utterly ludicrous idea of Frankie hovering a foot above her bed and her head spinning around on her neck like a top.

"Heeheehee! Oh man, I gotta tell Mac about this when he gets home. Haha! Geez, I don't think I'm gonna be able to look at her with a straight face for about a-"

Bloo's mirth came to a crashing halt as an odd noise reach his ears (or at least where he'd have them).

"What the…?" he inquired curiously, cocking his head in the direction of the queer sound. After a few more seconds, he heard it again, the unmistakable sound of someone retching violently. Upon realizing it was coming from just down the corridor, the little imaginary friend immediately darted off in the direction of the noise, the vile sound of gagging quickly grabbing a firm hold of his curiosity.

"Oh man, what the heck _is _that?" Bloo mused as he rushed over to the room he believed the sounds were emitting from. "Heehee! Hey, if someone's doing what I think they're doing, than I can't wait to see Frankie's face when she finds out she has to…when she…when…she…"

The instant he peered into the partially open doorway, an instantaneous transformation swept through him. In less than a moment, Bloo's eyes practically bugged out of their sockets, his jaw dropped like a stone, his arms went limp at his sides like two noodles, and the color drained from his face faster than water from a sink. As soon as he saw the flash of sickening green, along with the unmistakable splotch of red, all his worst fears became confirmed within a second before his very own eyes. Within an instant he turned around and dashed off in a tiny azure blur, actually making it down two flights of stairs before his brain fully comprehend what had just happened and he could regain the ability to speak, which he used so to the fullest extent.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" he screamed as loudly as his little lungs would allow. "THE GREEN STUFF! THE GREEN STUFF! SHE WAS SPEWING OUT THE GREEN STUFF! I SAW FRANKIE SPEWING OUT THE GREEN STUFF, JUST LIKE IN THE MOVIE! AAAAAAAAAA! OH MY GOD! SHE'S POSSESSED! SHE'S POSSESSED! FRANKIE FOSTER HAS BEEN POSSESSED! SOMEONE GET AN OLD PRIEST AND A YOUNG PRIEST! SATAN HAS TAKEN OVER THE FOSTER'S CARETAKER! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" his mortified wails echoed loudly throughout the household.

* * *

"Ewwww." Wilt grimaced in disgust as he looked over the awful mess on the floor. 

"I'm so sorry…." The quivering Frankie whimpered as she sat up in bed, clutching weakly at her chest. "I'm really…I'm so…I really tried to keep it all down, but…"

"Oh no, please don't! It's okay, Frankie, it's okay! I'll clean it up! It's okay!" The lanky imaginary friend quickly reassured her as he stepped forward to push the feverish caretaker gently back onto her pillows.

"Oh…okay…" the girl whispered wearily in response as she let herself flop limply back onto her mattress.

"There we go, that's it. Maybe trying to eat a little something wasn't the best idea. Just catch up on your rest for now, alright?" Wilt said gently as he began to pull the sheets over her.

"Wait, hold on." Frankie protested weakly as she tried to sit back up again, feeling about with badly shaking arms. "Hold on, where's my…where's…" she whined pathetically.

"Oh, right! Just a sec!" Wilt couldn't help but smile as he reached down to pick up the old teddy bear from where it had fallen on the floor. The moment he placed it in her arms, the girl clamped onto her beloved stuffed animal tightly and immediately let her eyes clamp shut.

"Thanks, Wilt." She murmured wearily as she quickly drifted off.

"Shhhh, go to sleep Frankie, go to sleep." Wilt hushed her soothingly as he tucked her in snuggly. "You'll feel a lot better after you get some more rest, okay?"

"Yeah…feel better…more sleep, that'll…"

Her incessant muttering was abruptly cut off as she fell fast into a deep sleep, looking for all the world like a napping toddler than an ill twenty-two-year-old young woman. Smiling warmly at the tender sight, Wilt gave her an affectionate pat on the head before he turned his attention to the sickly green mess that lay pooled in a vile mess next to her bed.

"Well, so much for keeping down her split-pea soup." The lanky imaginary friend sighed heavily. "I'm just glad no one else was around to see _that_. Yecch!"

* * *

Tucked away in a corner of his room, Bloo took quick check of the queer assortment of gear laid out on the floor before him. 

"Bible…check! Priestly garments…check! Cheap plastic rosary…check! What else, what else…let's see…"

The little imaginary friend had decided rather quickly that is was of little use to go to the authorities, much less Mr. Herriman. With every moment wasted, a mysterious demon was consolidating its evil clutches on _his _friend, in _his _home. Action had to be taken, and it had to be taken _now_. He desperately wished that there was some other way, but sadly there wasn't. All evidence that he had told him that Frankie had somehow been possessed, and it was gaining rapid control of her fast. If she had gone from babbling uncontrollably in "tongues" to spewing green ectoplasmic ooze in only a little more than a few hours, what could possibly become of her next?

Hopefully not much, if Bloo was to have any say in the matter. If endless hours of mindless movie viewing had taught him anything, anyone possessed had to have the demons exorcised out of them. And if anyone needed an exorcism, it was Frankie, and she needed one _badly_.

The little imaginary friend could only hope that his good friend TV had taught _him_ enough about how they were performed. Time was short, either he took matters into his hands now, or he risked the awful possibility of losing his friend forever.

"Alright, spawn of Satan." He growled as he threw all his equipment into a little sack. "This is it. Take hold of the body of our beloved Frankie, eh? Well buddy, you picked the wrong house. For I, Blooraguard Q. Kazoo-"

"What's that dearie?" Madame Foster asked inquired innocently as she peered into the bedroom, rudely interrupting his dramatic moment. "What's all this talk about-"

"AAAA!" Bloo squealed in surprise as he hurriedly threw the rest of his "exorcism" tools into his bag. "Nothing! Nothing! I mean, uh, I was just talking about, um…er…"

"Bloo honey, are you feeling alright?" the old woman asked with a look of worry. "You're not looking to good, maybe you're coming down with whatever Frankie has-"

"WHAT?" the little imaginary friend screamed in disbelief as his face turned a sickly pale shade in his horror. "You're saying _I_ might have the same thing that _FRANKIE_ has?"

"Well…" Madame Foster shrugged innocently. "I'm not saying it's not possible, it can spread about prettily easily. Maybe we should get you checked so-"

"No! No!" Bloo squealed incredulously. "You're saying that that kind of stuff _spreads_? Oh man, it's worse than I thought!"

"Bloo, what are-"

"DON'T WORRY FRANKIE! I'LL SAVE YOU FROM SPREADING YOUR DEMONIC POSSESSION! HELP IS ON THE WAY! I'M COMING, FRANKIE! I'M COMINGGGGGGG!" he shrieked as nabbed his gear and dashed past the little old lady down the hallway, screaming at the top of his lungs. Madame Foster only watched him rush away wildly moment before hobbling away, shaking her head with a grumble.

"It's probably best that I don't know."

* * *

Frankie stirred gently in her sleep. After squirming about a bit, she slowly opened her eyes with a weary groan. The girl had to admit, a little bit of rest certainly did wonders when one is momentarily incapacitated by disease. She still was feeling a little under the weather, but it was a far cry from the pathetically sickly creature she had been just hours before. With any luck, she'd be feeling completely back to her old self by tomorrow- 

"And so it begins." Someone declared somberly.

"EEEK! Who said that?" Frankie squeaked in surprise, quickly realizing she wasn't alone. "Who are you? What the he-oh it's _you_." She muttered wearily, spotting the all-too-familiar ghost-shaped blob standing at the edge of her bed.

"Hello, Frankie…" Bloo began grimly, speaking in an eerily subdued tone of voice. Frankie just groaned as she let her head fall back into her pillow.

"Bloo, I'm still really not feeling very well, can you-"

"…Or should I say, _evil possessing demon from the dark underworld_?" Bloo bellowed accusingly, jabbing angrily at the sickly young woman. Frankie lifted her head again and cocked an eyebrow in total confusion.

"Wait, _what_? Demon? Bloo, what are you-HEY! What the!" she screamed indignantly as she suddenly realized she had suddenly lost the ability to move her arms or legs.

"BLOO!" she screamed furiously as she pulled at the makeshift restraints holding her securely in her bed. "Did you _duct-tape_ me to the _bedposts_? Why you little-"

"Enough!" Bloo shouted resolutely as he began to make his way up the bed, a Bible clutched firmly in his arms. "This ends now, evil body-stealing fiend!"

As he slowly made his way forward, Frankie only began to struggle even more violently in her constraints, snarling ferociously at her captor.

"What on earth is going on here? What are you talking about? What are you trying to-BLOO!" she screeched angrily as she finally noticed flowing garment in which he was attired in. "Is that _my_ favorite black T-shirt you're wearing?"

"Do not mock my holy vestments, foul creature" Bloo growled in response as he steadily made his way towards her.

"ARGH! Oooooh, Blooragaurd Q. Kazoo! If you don't let me go this very second, I'm gonna-"

"Beware, spawn of Satan, for your time has come." The little imaginary friend whispered gravely as he came to a halt on top of her chest.

"That's it, buddy! No more Miss Nice Guy! I'm-"

"Your hold on Frankie ends today! Prepare evildoer, to be blown away by the word of God!" Bloo announced, and with that he flipped open his Bible and began to furiously read out loud the first passage he opened up to.

"And behold! Thus says the Lord: Go, buy a potter's earthen flask. Take along some of the elders of the peole and of the priests, and go out toward the Valley of Ben-hin…uh, Ben-hi…um, wait…Ben-himmiom? No, hold on. Uhhhh…man, this is a tough! Ben-himian…wait…ummmm…"

Utterly confounded, Bloo turned the Bible around and shoved it into Frankie's face. "How do you pronounce this name? That one, right there next to-"

"BLOO!" the girl shrieked angrily, thrashing about wildly in her bed. "IF YOU DON'T LET ME GO RIGHT THIS INSTANT-"

"EEEK!" Bloo squealed in surprise to her violent reaction. "S-stop! Stop, evil d-d-demon!" he unsuccessfully tried to quiet the screaming Frankie through chattering teeth. "If you don't silence yourself this instant, I'll, uh…I'll…"

"…I WILL TAKE AWAY DESSERT FROM YOU FOR THREE MONTHS! DO YOU HEAR ME? I'LL-"

"Silence, foul demon! Silence!" Bloo squeaked in fright. "Silence, in the name of-"

"BLOOOOOOOO!"

"AAA! I said silence!" Bloo ordered in a quaking voice, close to losing his nerve. "The power of Christ compels you to be silent!"

"WHY YOU LITTLE-"

THWACK!

"OW" Frankie howled in pain as Bloo flat-out panicked and brought the heavy book crashing down onto her head.

"Dammit, Bloo, what the hell was that for?" she cried furiously.

The stunned self-proclaimed exorcist looked at her blankly for a second, then back to the Bible in his hand.

"Of course…yes, of course! That's it! _That's _how you use this thing!" he cried triumphantly. "Oh man, why didn't I see it before? Why just speak the word of God when I can use it to-"

"Bloo, what the hell are you talking about?" Frankie screamed. "Will you please tell me _what_ you're doing and _why_ you're talking like you're a-"

"Don't worry, Frankie! I just found the foul creature's weakness! I'll save you yet!" Bloo cried heroically as he raised the Holy Scripture high in the air again. "Evil scourge, you leave my friend alone this instant! The power of Christ compels you to do so!"

"EEK!" Frankie squealed in horror as she wriggled about desperately in her duct tape constraints. "Oh God, no! Please! No no no no no-"

THWACK!

"OUCH! QUIT IT!" Frankie shrieked angrily as the little imaginary friend dealt her another painful blow

"The power of Christ compels you!" Bloo dutifully repeated as he prepared to strike another blow for all that was righteous.

_THWACK!_

"OW! Please, stop!" the girl pleaded desperately

"The power of Christ compels you!"

"Oh no, not again-"

_THWACK!_

"OW!"

"The power of Christ compels you!"

"For the love of-"

_THWACK!_

"OW!"

"The power of Christ compels you!"

"AUGH! In the name of all that is Holy, please-"

_THWACK!_

"OW!"

"The power of Christ compels you!"

"This is so wrong! Will you-"

_THWACK!_

"OW!"

"The power of Christ compels you!"

"No, I don't wanna-"

_THWACK!_

"OW!"

"The power of Christ compels-"

"STOPPIT!" Frankie shrieked at the top of her lungs, causing Bloo to drop his weapon in shock. As the little imaginary friend fell backwards on the bed with a squeal of surprise, the girl immediately began to thrash about wildly in her restraints, screeching like a banshee in her frantic effort to reach someone to assist her in her ridiculous plight.

"AAUUUUUGGGH! Help! Help! Someone, please! Bloo's gone totally crazy! AAAA! Grandma, Wilt, Mr. Herriman, Creaky Pete, anyone! Someone, please-"

"Oh no you don't, she-devil!" Bloo yelled as he clambered back onto his feet and pointed accusingly at her. "It's no use, your satanic brethren won't save you now! You leave Frankie alone!"

"Dear God, Bloo, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" Frankie shrieked in total bewilderment. "I can't move my arms, my head hurts, and you're acting like a freakin' Grand Inquisitor! Will you please just-"

"Yaaaaa! I shall purge thee!" Bloo yelled as her went into a flying dive right onto the unsuspecting girl's face.

"OMMPF! Hey! What the? Get off! Get off!" the girl roared as she shook her head wildly in a fruitless effort to shake her assailant loose.

"Never, spawn of the underworld!" the little imaginary friend yelled back determinedly as he suddenly withdrew a cheap plastic rosary. "Not until you release your hold on my friend! Don't make me use these!" he warned, waving the prayer beads threateningly.

"Bloo, what the heck are you going to do with-OW! OW! OW!" Frankie cried as without warning, Bloo unceremoniously jammed the rosary against her face.

"That's right, there's no use struggling!" he cried heroically. "No demon can withstand the power of-"

"The only reason I'm struggling is because you're trying to force a miniature plastic crucifix into my forehead! Owie! Owie! Owie!" Frankie snapped, encouraging Bloo only to press harder.

"Yes, that's it! It's all over now!" the hack exorcist yelled triumphantly. "Feel the power of our Lord!"

"AUGH! It feel's more like prayer beads being driven into my skull!"

"Don't worry Frankie, I'll save you!"

"OW! What the heck are you talking about? You're-"

"Eat plastic rosary, friend-possessing fiend! Let it's holy power sear you to your soulless black core! For the greater glory of-"

"BLOO, QUIT IT!" Frankie let loose with another ear-splitting shriek, again catching the determined little imaginary creature completely off guard. As Bloo instantly let go and tumbled backwards off the bed, Frankie once more began to pull wildly at the duct tape restraints, screaming furiously at the top of her lungs.

"Blooraguard Q. Kazoo, you release me this instant, or else!" she roared in a bloodcurdling screech. "I will douse you in steak sauce and throw you in the extremasaur cage! I will beat you senseless, videotape the whole thing, and make you watch it every day for the rest of your life! I'll make a truckload of "It" and make you eat every bite until you pop like a fat little blue balloon! You hear me? _Like a balloon_! ARRRRGGGGH! I'll…"

The absolutely enraged young woman furiously sputtered hideous threats left and right, all the while supplementing them with plenty of angry swears and curses as she wriggled about madly like a rabid beast. While Frankie continued to go half-insane with blind rage however, Bloo quickly scrambled to his feet and just nodded resolutely at the sight before him.

"The demon is making one more last stand, victory is almost mine! But good has not won yet, there's still one more thing to do! Don't worry Frankie, I'll save you!" he cried determinedly, and with that he dashed out of the room.

"…and then by the time I'll be done with you, we won't have to buy a grave plot, because there'll be _nothing_ left of you to be buried! Do you hear me, Bloo? DO YOU?" Frankie screamed to the high heavens, practically foaming at the mouth in her intense anger.

When a few seconds had passed and she had received no response however, a rapid transformation immediately swept through the girl. Gone was the bloodthirsty rage of epic proportions, only to be replaced by a look of frenzied panic and fear.

"Bloo?" Frankie asked cautiously she struggled to crane her neck about, anxious to spot her little blue torturer. "B-Bloo? You still here?"

A couple more moments passed, all a couple moments too much for Frankie. As soon as she realized he had disappeared completely, the girl instantly broke out into a cold sweat as her breathing became shallow and fast-paced.

"Bloo? Bloo? Okay, jokes over!" she laughed nervously, still continuously glancing about wildly. "You got me Bloo, okay! Ha ha! No more need to beat me with sacred objects, okay? You can come out now!" she cried apprehensively. Still, no response came.

"Heh heh, good one Bloo!" Frankie continued, her heart pounding madly in her chest. "Tryin' to pull a fast one on me, eh? Ha, nice try pal! I get it! Joke's on me! You don't need to-"

"Your foul tricks won't help you now, bride of Lucifer!" a harsh reply cut her off.

"EEK!" Frankie yelped in surprise as she looked forward to once again find the familiar little blob standing right on the end of her bed. "Bloo! Where'd you-"

"Silence!" Bloo roared, shaking a tiny fist in defiance. "You can't wheedle your way out of this one, usurping demon! You better give up our beloved Frankie, and you better do it now!"

"WHAT?" Frankie cried in disbelief. "Bloo, for the last time, what in God's name are you talking about? It's me, Frankie! Why the heck are you treating me like some kind of-"

"Oho, very funny." Bloo sneered sarcastically. "Trying to impersonate her eh? Well, it won't work! Frankie sooooo does not sound like that!"

"Bloo, it _is_ me! I swear! It's me, it's me! It's-" Frankie swiftly protested in response, only to be cut off within moments.

"Still won't give up peacefully, eh?" Bloo growled. "Fine! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

It was at that very moment that Frankie spotted the metal bucket at Bloo's side. As the little imaginary friend struggled to lift it high, the girl cocked her head in confusion.

"B-Boo?" she whispered nervously. "What are you going to do with-"

"Eat holy water, foul demon!"

_SPLASH! _

* * *

"Hey Mac, how was school today?" Wilt asked politely as he opened the door for Foster's resident eight-year-old. Mac shrugged as he shot the lanky friend a friendly grin. 

"Oh, okay I guess.. Is Frankie feeling any better yet?" the boyinquired concernedly.

"Hmmm, you know what?" Wilt asked in reply as he scratched his head. "Come to think of it, I'm not quite sure. She wasn't looking too hot last time I saw her. I did makeher take a nap a while ago, so hopefully she'll be feeling a little bit better. In fact, I was about to go up and check on her. Wanna come with me?"

"Oh, sure! I gotta see if she's-"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The pair's conversation was abruptly interrupted as a high-pitched squeal of unfathomable terror echoed loudly throughout the old Victorian mansion. Both child and imaginary friend looked up just in time to see a tiny blue blur blast down the main staircase and zip by.

"OhGodrunforyourlivesthedemonhasescaped! AAAAAAA!" Bloo managed to gasp in one breath before throwing up his arms and emitting another horrified scream as he rushed by. Before the stunned spectators of this bizarre sight could respond at all, they suddenly found themselves roughly shoved aside as a taller, lankier, redheaded blur forced her way between them.

"BLOO!" a sopping wet Frankie shrieked in unfathomable rage as she determinedly pursued the small, terrified imaginary friend, swinging a large baseball bat as she gave chase. "YOU BETTER PRAY TO GOD THAT I'M NOT POSSESSED, BECAUSE IF I AM THEN I'M ABOUT TO UNLEASH HELL ON YOUR LITTLE BLOB BUTT! YOU HEAR ME? BLOOOOOOOOO!"

Bloo let loose another wail of sheer terror as he frantically picked up the pace. Frankie only responded with a primal roar of pure, unbridled anger as she ferociously barreled after her prey like a rabid hound. Within an instant the two disappeared from sight, leaving nothing but the loud echoes of their cries reverberating throughout the entire house.

For a moment, Mac and Wilt just remained standing where they were in the foyer in dead silence. Both stared blankly at where they had last seen the redhead and imaginary friend race off, each one trying to comprehend furiously whether if the absurd scene they had just witnessed had really taken place, or instead if it had all been an awful, awful mind trick. Finally though, Mac broke the deafening silence by jerking his head up slowly in the direction of his companion.

"Uh…Wilt?" he asked warily.

"Um… yeah Mac?"

"…I think Frankie's feeling better now." The boy stated bluntly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think you're right." Wilt nodded stupidly in agreement.

After this quick exchange of words, the two immediately darted off like lightning on the trail of the most ridiculous chase ever. Their breath coming in ragged gasps, both raced furiously to catch up with their friends, extremely desperate to prevent any further atrocities from taking place between either the frenzied twenty-two-year-old or mortified blue imaginary friend.

"No, Frankie, no! You gotta put the bat down! You gotta put that bat _down_! This is so _not_ okay!"

"Bloo, keep going! Run in zig-zags, pick up the pace, try and throw her off your trail! I don't care, just run! Run you little imaginary fool, just don't stop! BLOOOOOOO!"

* * *

"…and I promise that I won't play video games, watch TV, or get dessert until further notice." Bloo mumbled unhappily as he recited the forced confession. 

"_And_?" Frankie growled as she gave him a harsh prod to the stomach, causing him to squeak in discomfort.

"Ow! Hey! Alright, alright! And, um…no…uh…scary movies too?" he asked hopefully, trying to flash the extremely annoyed young woman a disarming smile.

"Nuh uh, bucko, _that_ falls under TV privileges. C'mon, what was the last thing?" she inquired dutifully.

"Um…I dunno…" Bloo murmured in a blatant lie as he tried to avoid Frankie's stern glare.

"Bloo, just get it over with." Wilt moaned wearily as he rolled his good eye.

"Oh, c'mon!" Bloo protested furiously, throwing up his arms for dramatics. "You can't be serious! I can't let go of _that_! Please, anything but that! Anything!"

"Say it…" Frankie demanded flatly.

"No! This is _so_ unfair!" the small imaginary friend whined. "C'mon, it wasn't that bad-"

"Oh really? Since _when_ is it okay to douse someone with ice-cold water, after beating her half-senseless with the one of the heaviest books in the house, all while she's recovering from being sick?" Mac grumbled, arms folded in an annoyed huff.

"Fine! If that's the way you guys are gonna be, then fine!" Bloo snapped, blowing the two a wet raspberry before turning back to Frankie.

"And…uh…I promise that until you say so, I …I won't…" he sputtered uncontrollably.

"Go on…" Frankie encouraged him with a smug grin.

"…Play any more paddleball until further notice." Bloo managed to choke out glumly with a sad moan.

"Hey, don't give me that!" Frankie scolded, wagging a finger. "If anything you should be down on your knees and thanking me that I'm letting you off this easy. You're just lucky that I-"

Before she had a chance to continue with her lecturing, a harsh gust of wind blasted through the little group, causing Frankie to stop dead with her reprimand and hug herself miserably with a squeal of discomfort.

"EEEEK!" she shrieked, shivering violently. "Oh geez, that's cold!"

Then again, such was to be expected when one is still sopping wet and clad in a soggy nightgown, topped off when one is perched on the _roof_ of a tall Victorian mansion of all places. The two humans and two imaginary friends grouped pitifully around the spire of Foster's, their precarious exposed position allowing them to be buffeted by the harsh elements.

"Cold, cold, I'm so cold, so very cold…" the soaking-wet redhead mumbled to herself as she curled up into a little ball.

"Oops, hold on!" the kind-hearted Wilt instantly came to the rescue, scooting precariously over the roof tiles to her side and wrapping her in a warm hug.

"There! Is that better?" he asked with a gentle smile as he held her close.

"Oh, _much_ better." Frankie snapped sarcastically. "Great, now I get to enjoy the view up here on the tallest point of the house on the nice scratchy tiles without worrying about catching pneumonia and freezing to death. Whoop-de-doo, Wilt." She sneered.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Wilt immediately apologized somberly as he began to loosen his hold.

"Hey, I didn't say stop!" Frankie whined as she threw her arms around him and tried to bury herself within the warm depths of his soothingly warm fur. As she consolidated her grip on her lanky imaginary friend, the girl shot Bloo and Mac a disapproving glare.

"Well?" she snapped impatiently. "Don't just sit there!"

"Aw man." Bloo grumbled as he unwillingly crawled his way across to join the awkward huddle.

"As if life here doesn't get weird enough." Mac muttered ruefully as he latched on to the trembling caretaker.

"Pal, you've seen _me_ getting out of the _shower_." Frankie reminded him dutifully through chattering teeth. "I doubt things can get any weirder between us than-"

"Gross!" the boy grimaced in disgust as the awful memories of that fateful day flooded back into his mind. "Yuck! I take it back! I take it back! Ew! Ew! Ew!"

After the eight-year-old's display of repugnance, the four quietly settled down in their precarious grouping on the tiles, dutifully huddling around the still-shivering young woman in a deafening awkward silence.

"I've never seen anyone take a full blow from a baseball bat in the stomach like that." Bloo suddenly mumbled incredulously.

"Yeah." Frankie agreed with a nod. "Now that I think about it, it was good that you managed to duck like that in time. I probably would've hated myself if I smacked you full force on the head."

"Yeah." The little imaginary friend chuckled weakly.

A few more minutes of silence passed by uneventfully.

"It's too bad Mr. Herriman just happened to be exiting the library at that moment, though." Mac piped up.

"It's too bad _I_ wasn't looking where I was swinging." Frankie replied with a heavy sigh.

"I've never seen him so angry before." The boy muttered unhappily.

"Yeah, and I don't think _we_ made it any better by running into the poor guy and sending him flying into that door." Wilt added with a frown.

"The _opened_ door that led downstairs to the _cellar_." Frankie reminded them as she winced painfully. "Ouch."

Another gust of wind blasted the little group, forcing them to squeeze closer together.

"We'll be lucky if we don't have to stay up here for the night." Wilt observed bluntly.

"I'd be more worried about the rabbit finding us up here first." Frankie disagreed calmly. "He was kinda screaming bloody murder, after…y'know…"

"Mr. Herriman's gonna kill us, isn't he Frankie?" Mac whimpered as he tightened his hold on her leg.

"Shhhhh, don't say that pal." Frankie whispered as she reassuringly ruffled his hair. "But then again, if Grandma doesn't talk some sense into him first…"

After this pessimistic observation, they all lapsed back into another awkward silence.

"Soooo, has anyone seen any good movies lately?" Bloo asked in a lame attempt to start up conversation. At this the other three turned their heads almost simultaneously to shower the little imaginary friend with a hail of angry glares.

"What? What did I say? I just wanted to know-OW! Hey, what the-OW! Okay, okay! I'm sorry guys! OW! I just wanted to-OW! Stop hitting-OW! OW! OW!"

**The End**

* * *

There you go, everyone! 

I'l admit, one of my more random stories. Yeah, it's probably not one of my better works, and to be quit honest I'm going through a slump here with good fic ideas. But I will admit I had a _lot_ of fun writing this particular story, this is really the first fic I've written where I was able to fit in a lot of Bloo/Frankie interaction, which I think is always a good excuse for a wacky situation.

Just one thing though! I'm gonna put this out, despite everything that Bloo said and did in the story, I in no way wrote this with the intention of purposely offending any Christian readers out there. I really don't know if that's gonna happen, but I just want to be sure! I wrote this entirely as just a parody of any exorcism movies that have been made. And to brush aside any further suspicions, I gonna let you know that I myself am Catholic. Yeah, I know maybe I'm being a little paranoid here, but I honestly try to avoid offending others when possible. Sorry if I got a little too sacrilegious back there!

One more note! For everyone who reviews, I'm gonna let you guys know now that I won't be able to reply until sunday, because I'll be gone for the weekend. But once I get back, I'll promise that I'll respond as soon as possible!

Don't exactly be expecting any more fics from me any time soon. Not that I've given up the writing business or anything, it's just that between projects, upcoming finals in a few weeks, a couple projects, plus the whole stupid college applications process, my hands are going to be seriously tied for the next few weeks.

Hey, you never know though! I'll see what I can do!

Thanks anyway, everyone! Tell me what you guys think! Please review!

-Dude13


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